Ne plus pouvoir se passer de lui, de ses mots, de ses gestes.

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My father was a Reserve Police Officer with the Pasadena Police Department and I used to tag along with him around the station. By the time I was eight I had seen my first dead guy and gone on my first Code 3 run in a police car; plus I got to know a lot of officers. Through a series of events I ended up at Arizona State University in the fall of 1984 as a Photography major.

In excess, neither of them is particularly good for me, but indulging in the forbidden now and then is enjoyable. In my normal environment, I choose not to test the limits of my willpower and deliberately restrict access to both of these. However, I recently found myself staying in a hotel where DQ guarded the entrance to the food court.

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